


Cat's Cradle

by Lywinis



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Character Study, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3319532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lywinis/pseuds/Lywinis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicia just has the worst luck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cat's Cradle

_2009, during a hot summer night in New York_

Felicia’s eyes lit up behind the mask as she dropped to the floor. The golden drinking horn lay on its cushion, emeralds and rubies that worked through the Norse design winking in the display lights. White teeth shone in a feral grin as she pulled the kit from her hip and began to work. She snipped the wires to the security system, the cameras already scrambled when she dropped in through the skylight. Her claws snapped out, diamond tipped and sharp enough to cut through glass. She pressed in, the shriek of the glass giving way making her wince, but the _tink_ of the circle she cut popping free made her run her tongue over her lips in pleasure.

She reached in, tracing her fingers over the horn. Donated by Thor to the city, it was supposed to hold magics from Asgard as well as being made of solid gold and blessed by his father, Odin. The press had been covering the story for weeks, and people had flocking in to see the horn.

Felicia just knew that it was worth a mint.

She undid the latch holding the case shut, and then, the servos in her suit whining, she lifted it off with ease.

“Hello, pretty thing,” she murmured, and opened her hip pouch to pick up the horn.

“Step away from the case, please.”

She startled, whipping around. The voice had come from behind her, and she swapped her contacts to the infrared spectrum. She didn’t need to, however; he stepped into the light. An older man, with a high widow’s peak and intense blue-grey eyes, his lips lifted in a blasé smile. She didn’t know him, but she knew the insignia of the tactical suit he wore.

Hm. Interesting.

“And if I don’t?” She asked, but obliged him, walking toward him with her hips swaying. “What would you do, G-Man?”

“I’d have to tase you, ma’am.” His lips twitched, and she noted that he kept his eyes on her face. He was good. She watched him step forward. The tactical suit outlined a barrel chest and defined arms, and he had a certain charm about him, she admitted, albeit begrudgingly. “I’m sure neither of us want that. I was expecting Loki, not you. Who are you?”

“You mean you don’t know me?” she asked, and resisted the urge to pout. She’d been gone far too long if the Black Cat wasn’t known in the city anymore. “That’s a crying shame, G-Man. Let me introduce myself properly.”

She stepped closer to him, pressing against him like her namesake, and ran her fingers up that barrel chest. He smelled good, for a man in a tacsuit that must have been waiting for his prey for a while. She could smell honest to god shaving soap. She cupped his jaw and sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, tugging gently. The man gave as good as he got, however, as he kissed her in return and she was surprised by the gentleness he showed before the click of a pair of handcuffs made her startle again.

“Sorry,” he said, and held up their joined wrists. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you some questions.”

“Kinky, G-Man, but I’m afraid I don’t have the time to bring out the heavy stuff.” She popped out her claws and slashed at his face, but he was surprising in all aspects, ducking beneath her swing and jerking her arm across her chest as he stepped behind her.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m afraid I must insist.”

She snarled, using him as a brace as she kicked her legs up, over her head and smiled when she felt the magnetic lock of the cuffs snap free. Thank god for probability fields. She was free again, and she aimed a kick at his head before she launched herself off of him and back toward the case.

His hand snapped out, catching her ankle, and she went to the ground with a _whumph_ of the air leaving her lungs. She was impressed. He was fast, agile and strong, and a match for the servos in her suit it looked like. She rolled to her feet, dislodging his hand as she swiped at him.

“You’re faster than you look,” she said with a smirk, eyes glittering behind the mask she wore. “Ever think about getting out of the serving your country gig?”

“No, ma’am,” he said. His lips twitched. By god, he was _amused_. The light of challenge flared in her chest. “I’ll always be a government man.”

“Shame,” she said. “There’s a lot of money to be made in the cat burglary game, Agent…”

“Coulson. Agent Coulson, with SHIELD.” He smiled at her, and she skittered out of reach as he darted toward her. She circled around, aiming to turn him toward the case so that she could claim both in a fell swoop. He seemed to know what she was about, and they circled each other, feinting and aiming blows to corral the other.

“You could always give up. We could use someone with your talents,” he said, ducking under her swiping claws once more. “Freelance as a consultant.”

“Sorry, G-Man, I don’t give up my freedom.” She laughed, using one of her grapples to launch herself across the room. She snipped off the rope, the mechanism around her wrist adding a new grapple and tying it off for her. “But you’re sweet to offer. Might just turn a girl’s head.”

He caught the rope as it swung back toward him, kicking off as she made a run for the case. She leapt over his grasping hands, snatching the mead horn and tucking it in her hip pouch. She sprang to the edge of the room and scaled the wall, the bag banging against her leg with the weight of her prize.

“It’s been fun,” she purred. “See you around, Agent Coulson.”

She slipped out the window into the muggy night air, laughing as she rappelled across midtown. It really _had_ been fun.

* * *

She couldn’t sell the horn as it was, and so she needed to smelt it down. She had a few contacts she trusted to do the job, but she wanted to see if she could have a chance at rolling it out as the mead horn of Thor before she broke it down to its component finery.

One buyer pinged her interest, a wealthy contractor by the name of Bertrand James. He would be discreet, as well as pay her asking price. She negotiated the terms through encrypted emails and proxies, always coding her transmissions from different rooftops to keep from pinpointing her location.

Such a big sale necessitated that she be the one to deliver the goods. She prided herself on her service, and it helped her build a nest of contacts, lines strummed throughout the city and across the country, some spanning the globe. It was good to keep them happy.

Besides, it’s not like he was the Kingpin. Screw that guy.

She snorted and shoved her wraparound sunglasses onto her face, clicking across the hotel’s lobby. He was staying in the penthouse, and she pushed back her elegant braid to get it out of the way as she pushed the button for the top floor. She was admitted to the top floor with the access codes, and she walked into the meeting room, the wrapped parcel she carried placed on the table.

“Mister James?” she said, turning to the man standing at the window. “Your check cleared this morning, and so I thought I’d bring it in person.”

He turned around, and her eyes widened.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Hardy,” he said, giving that same blasé smile. She noted that he wore the tailored suit well. It was almost a shame she hated him right now. “I do believe that you’ll find that check is no longer any good, but I do appreciate the return of SHIELD property.”

“Damn it.” She turned to make her escape, and the doors slammed shut, two suited SHIELD agents folding their arms and looking severe. “ _Damn_ it.”

The horn was far too much trouble at this rate. She mourned the loss of a nice pantsuit, but darted for the bank of windows he was standing in front of, kicking hard at the safety glass until it shattered. She was strong, even without her catsuit, and her emergency grapple came in handy as she dove from the window, aiming at the building across the way.

She latched on to the fire escape, disappearing into the thick of New York foot traffic even as Coulson watched her go, a small smirk on his face.

* * *

“Sir, shouldn’t we go after her?” Marks asked, shifting where she stood. “Fury’s going to have a shit fit.”

“No, he won’t. We got the horn back, and that’s what he’s concerned about. Hardy’s a small time thief, so far. If she takes on bigger game, or if she tangles with Parker again, then she’ll warrant watching. Knowing her patterns, she’s more likely to skip town at this rate until the heat dies down.” Phil opened the package, pulling the horn out, the gold chilled to the touch as he turned it over in his hands. “It’s the real deal. Let Thor know we got his heirloom back, and we’ll return it to the museum.”

“Yes, sir.”

Phil turned back to the broken window, looking out over the streets of the city below. He could have sworn he caught a glimpse of her signature hair as he searched the crowds, but even to his trained eye, it could have been a trick of the light. He smirked again and called for a team to sweep the building for bugs and to replace the window. He had cleanup to do.

He’d do his own research on Felicia Hardy when he got back. Fury would want a report, regardless.

**Author's Note:**

> This was an RP drabble written a long, long time ago. I like character introspection too, I just hardly ever get the chance to write it anymore.


End file.
